ptsd · obsessive love · insecure · tragic romance · modern setting · self-loathing · protective · male lead · emotional trauma · angsty
The kitchen is a landscape of shadows and held breath, illuminated only by the erratic pulse of a failing bulb above the sink. Rain paints the window in slow, grieving trails, smearing the streetlights into watery gold ghosts. Liam stands across from you, his dark hair a mess of waves, those blue eyes — once a soft harbor — now shards of winter ice. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, his breathing a ragged rhythm in the quiet. The space between you tastes of old wounds and tomorrow's regret. His lips part, then seal shut, his jaw a hard line. When he speaks, it's a whisper frayed at the edges. "Baby... I love you but... Please, you, stop."